The Story of Esmeralda: Fate
by LetGo-LetOpenDoorsOfPurgatory
Summary: We all know the depressing backstory of Esme Cullen - but what truly happened in those dark years leading up to Esme's change?
1. Prologue: This Wasn't Reason It Was Fate

A/N: I've wanted to try a Twilight Fic so I am doing one about Esme Cullen. I started it in Carlisle's POV, though.

Prologue: This Wasn't Reason, It Was Fate.

Never, in all my years of living, had I ever expected to meet Esmeralda Anne Platt-Evenson again. It seemed as if just yesterday I had been healing her broken leg from when she had become too adventurous and taken a dramatic fall. They say things happen for a reason—this was more than just reason. This was fate. I stood watching her shallow breathing—they brought her here to die. They wanted her to die. They weren't even going to try and resurrect her broken body—or faintly beating heart. I could easily see why they wouldn't, but at the same time I questioned why they had put such a low value on someone's life. She was just as deserving as all the other near-death patients fighting for their lives desperately in the medical wards. It wasn't like they could hear them dying, unlike me. I could hear everyone's death right down onto the very last pulsation of blood through their veins and heart. I looked over the beautiful woman before me. Her hair caressed her heart-shaped face lovingly as if to provide comfort to the bruises across her jawline. As my fingers the skin brushed of her arm I watched as a trail of goosebumps followed. Her body shivered from my cold touch, I could her her heartbeat skip once. A hoarse, pain-filled groan was my response from the involuntary shudder she had given from my icy touch. I frowned. The fall she had taken had broken almost every bone in her body, it would be fruitless to even try to mend her bones by popping what I could back into place and bracing them. Yet still, I wanted to give this angel a chance at life, this woman who was helpless to the cruel fate of this world. Running my fingers across her bruised and scraped jaw, I sat silent for a few moments. I watched a few goosebumps appear along where I had moved my fingers, just as they had when I grazed her arm. She was human. I wasn't. She was the epitome of life – and I was the meaning of death and evil. I'd been labeled a monster for years. A heartless, man-eating cannibal who cared nothing of the lives of those around him. I refused to live that life. I refused to be that kind of man my father had chased down in the streets of Volterra when I had been a young boy.

Thump...Thumpa...Thump...

Slower and slower her struggling heart began to beat. I knew her blood would be moving slowly, but I could beat that. I knew I could. I ran my tongue over my cold lips. She was too precious to lose. She was way too precious. She was someone I wanted to save – I couldn't let her die, but something stood in my way. Could I really destroy Esme this way? Could I honestly take this angelic being's heartbeat so selfishly and make her live this life? I was a bit disappointed in myself for my answer.

Yes. I could. I definitely could.

If I had a heartbeat I knew it'd be racing at this decision. God, what was I thinking? Who was I, a Devil's creature, to do this? I grit my teeth in thought, still debating. I was wasting moments. Moments that could be used to save Esmeralda and make her mine forever. The Morgue's door shut softly – the last assistant for the night leaving. I was now left in the room full of dead bodies, left to rot until the Cornoner arrived and took them away. The moonlight shone brightly through the window above Esme's bed, the light illuminating her face. Her breathing was growing slower. I only heard three heartbeats per minute now. I gnawed into my bottom lip, my fangs gaining my attention. The windows that had been left open to avoid a near unbearable scent allowed in a soft breeze, moving the translucent curtains around Esme's bed in a ghostly manner. It almost seemed to be something from a horror movie.

Two heartbeats per minute...

There was no time to waste.

I lunged.

Esme was now...dead.


	2. Sticks & Stones

**Chapter One: Sticks And Stones**

_**Esme Platt-**_

I've never been a normal girl. I loved adventure. I wasn't into new dresses or anything of the sort. I was into running free through meadows – being the girl that the lavish and uppity society around me looked down upon. There was just something about knowing that I was breaking some sort of unwritten rule that made me enjoy being free. I wasn't going to live a housewife life like my mother. Nope. I wasn't going to be that girl who attended to her husband hand and foot like the women of my time. I was going to become a teacher and I was going to enjoy myself. Sure down the line I'd want that beautiful white picket fence and red rose garden. Who wouldn't? I wanted children. I wanted a family – but I just didn't want it_today_ as many girls of my age wanted.

Sitting at the dinner table set with elegant china, crystal glass and silver I tuned out the dull droning of my parents. Their conversation was close to boring me to the point of tears. As far as I was understanding they were talking on how father's day at his job went. You know, I hadn't been where I am today all my life. I had grown up on a farm on the outskirts of Columbus. I loved it there. Heck, I still would if my family still lived and worked there. I loved my childhood, but somehow my life had taken a violent turn. I was suddenly well-respected among the community, known by all the people around me and doted upon by many citizens. At least that is what it _seemed_ like. It was weird. I hadn't been used to the attention. In fact, I had much preferred hanging upside down in trees and balancing on branches to sitting with my back straight as a board and sipping tea in a sitting room full of women fawning over books or the latest fashions. Leaning onto the table via my right forearm I let my silver fork, held in my left hand, chase around what was left of the peas on my plate. I had already ate my fill – but I couldn't depart from the table until my parents deemed it just. I heaved a sigh only to be greeted by the sound of tinkling glass and a the loud sound of a monstrous hand into mahogany. My brown eyes darted up to meet with my father's hazel. His hard face had the chiseled features of an angry lion. I swallowed a bit and prepared for another shouting match. My father had always been the kind of man that could intimidate you with a simple look. He had done it to many people easily.

"Esmeralda, sit up straight." He ordered. Slowly and surely I straightened up and leaned my back against the chair. A dull, annoying ache made itself present in my straining muscles. My mother, who had acted as if nothing had happened, continued to pick away at her dinner like a bird. She was the epitome of perfection. At least to our community. I couldn't stand how she and father acted. We may be rich but it gave no excuse for how they treated the people around them. We were just like them at one point. We had been struggling to make ends meet just like everyone else in this one horse town. I sometimes wondered how I was even their daughter. They were so...wicked and I, so much different. I believed in giving chances and being kind to strangers – they believed that everyone else was the dirt they walked upon. I sat in silence as my parents continued to eat. I'd give anything for this painful exchange to be over with. When I had been excused from the table I wasted not a moment in darting from the dining area and into the sitting area, past the soft seats, and outside into the warm evening light. Summer had finally arrived in Columbus and the scents that were carried on the air were all too familiar. I could smell the bread baking down at the Bradshaw Bakery down the dirt and cobble street, the smell of sweet hay for horses was not too far behind it.

Sniffing the air happily once more with closed eyes I could smell a slight touch of honeysuckle – perhaps the scent came from down at Mrs. Crumplebottom's little garden of flowers two streets over. Opening my eyes as my body relaxed I looked over at the large Oak tree in our yard I had climbed many a time without my parents knowing. I did this every evening. I fled the house and crawled into the tree for fifteen happiness-filled minutes. Traversing the lush green grass, my skirts dancing around my feet, I began to climb the Oak tree, my feet slipping here and there. If there was one thing to hate about dresses and lace it was the fact they snagged. As I pulled myself up onto the lowest branch – about 7 feet off the ground – I heard a voice calling my name.

"Why if it isn't Esme!" Turning my head I peered down at my neighbor, Anna. I had known her for quite a few years. She was twenty-six years old and had two lovely children whom I looked after sometimes when she had to run errands on the town for her husband. I waved to the pale blonde as I began to stand up on the branch.

"Esme, get down from there!" She laughed. I shook my head and continued to pull myself up onto my favorite branch.

"You're going to have to come up here and make me!" I countered with a jovial laugh. Now I pulled myself up onto the branch. _Creak. _What was that sound? After a few moments of not hearing it again I continued to lift upward. As I stood up onto the branch her facial expression changed from laughter to panic, another loud creak and crack reaching my ears.

"ESM-" An inhuman scream filled the air – I suppose it belonged to me.

By time I had realized why she wore the face of horror I had already hit the ground, a flash of white light blinding me. Writhing at the pain I felt in my left leg, I knew immediately I had broken the bone. I could barely look around from the pain but I could see branches and leaves had me surrounded. I fought for consciousness, the blow from the fall winning. Tendrils of darkness wrapped around me and dragged me down beneath. Through the blur, though, I heard a voice shout,

"_Someone, call Doctor Cullen!"_

Then silence became my best friend.


End file.
